Dancing with Cinderella
by DrawnInTwilight
Summary: "You have an adorable little girl who looks up to you and adores you in a way you could never have imagined..." -Father of the Bride- Harry, Ron, and George can handle anything... except maybe their daughters growing up...
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** set in my AU (meaning the kids aren't quite the same as JKRowling's epilogue) with inspiration from Steven Curtis Chapman's song _Cinderella,_which I've included the lyrics of. Enjoy! ^_^_

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><p><em>"She spins and she sways<em>

_To whatever song plays_

_Without a care in the world_

_And I'm sitting here wearing_

_The weight of the world on my shoulders_

_It's been a long day_

_And there's still work to do_

_She's pulling at me_

_Saying "Dad, I need you_

_There's a ball at the castle_

_And I've been invited_

_And I need to practice my dancing_

_Oh, please, Daddy, please?"_

_So I will dance with Cinderella_

_While she is here in my arms_

_'Cause I know something the prince never knew_

_Oh, I will dance with Cinderella_

_I don't want to miss even one song_

_'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight_

_And she'll be gone..."_

Harry Potter dropped into the dragon skin leather chair (a present from his brother-in-law) behind his home desk with a groan. Rounding up neo-Death Eaters had gotten tricky to say the least, but today—going after what's left of the Lestrange family—was probably the worst so far. The entire village was nearly pulled into the stand-off between Aurors and the Lestrange brothers. That, on top of numerous other issues that had been cropping up out of the woodwork and dealing with his sons causing as much trouble as possible, made Harry wonder if he was going to have grey hair before he turned 40.

Luckily Ginny had taken the boys out of the house, though he had a rising suspicion that it was another trip to St Mungo's. But at least it left him alone to finish the paperwork for the week, since Lily knew how to entertain herself.

A sigh escaped him as he heard cheerful music coming from the next room. Lily had fallen into what Hermione called "the princess stage" recently, which had spurred from shopping trips between the women in both Ron's and Harry's houses and grown to include little girl ballgowns and shoes and tiaras and all sorts of other tidbits that a princess needed.

There were any number of nights that Harry silently cursed Hermione for giving Lily a muggle fairytale book every time something else bright pink or covered in lace came through the front door, since Ginny loved the stories as much as Lily did.

The only good thing that had come out of it was the manners and etiquette it pulled out of his little girl. Something about the title "princess" had brought along an even sweeter attitude to the house—or at least to Lily, her brothers still acted like warring nations.

He'd nearly gotten through half of the reports piled high on his desk when he felt a tug on his sleeve.

Glancing down he found the nearly golden eyes of Lily, who stood smiling up from his elbow in her poofy blue ballgown.

"Hiya, Li-Lu," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the head, knocking her tiara askew.

Lily continued to smile as she adjusted the tiara correctly. "Daddy, I need you," she informed him.

"Really," Harry said, his attention already back to the report on the Kettleburn and Drudge incident.

"Yes," Lily answered, fiddling with a set of white gloves that were still too big for her. "There's a ball at the castle, you see."

"Oh, that's nice, love." He scratched out the sentence he'd just written.

"Mm-hmm," she agreed, now fixing the position of her long string of beads. "And I've been invited."

"Good to hear." Another scratch out. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," she said, dipping into a little curtsy. "But I need to practice...Daddy."

"Hmm?" Harry pulled his attention away from the parchment to find a not-very-pleased majesty waiting for him with her arms folded. "Practice what?"

"My dancing."

Harry stared at the renewed smile on his daughter's face and for a split second was ready to floo Hermione and tell her to stop giving his wife and daughter more ideas on how to spend money recklessly. "Dancing?"

"For the ball," Lily said, making the last word nice and slow as though she thought his work made his brain shut down. And she wasn't far off.

"Right! The ball. At the castle," Harry said, nodding as he found himself turning back to the parchment. "With a Prince and all that?"

"Yep, that's why I have to practice," Lily chirped happily and gave his arm another tug. "Please?"

He sighed, his brain finally catching what she wanted. "Lily—."

"Daddy, please?"

There were still at least five more reports to write and about twenty others to go through, which only made him hate his position as head of the Aurors more. They needed to get done. At this rate he'd be working on them all weekend... But those large golden eyes were too much to ignore.

"Well then," He said, then pushed away from his desk and gave her a small bow, kissing the top of her head again which made her giggle. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

"You may!"

Imitating what few movies he'd seen with Aunt Petunia, Harry held his arm out in a low L shape, which Lily quickly took hold of and raised her chin as he led her back to the foyer where she'd set up her ballroom.

Harry could barely hold in his chuckle as his little princess let him lead her around the floor and spin her in circles, with her giggling the whole time but never losing a step.

"You don't need any practice," Harry teased as he took both of her hands to simply sway around in a circle. "How did you learn to dance so well?"

Lily giggled and let herself hang back from his arms while her small plastic-shoe clad feet stood atop his work shoes.

"I dance with the prince," she told him.

"Oh?" Harry asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "You're too young for princes."

"Daddy," Lily giggled.

"Well, do I know this prince?" Harry asked, enjoying the way they'd made their way around the floor.

"Of course you do," she giggled again.

"Well who is he?" Harry asked, now entirely curious as he stared down at the little redhead who shook her head with a grin. "Can I guess?"

She nodded, still grinning with a faint blush to her cheeks.

"Ok," he said slowly, making it obvious that he was thinking. "Is it me?"

"No!" she giggled. "You're the king."

"Oh, right," he said, smiling at her. "I keep forgetting my crown."

"Guess again!" she cheered.

"Hmm...is it... James?"

"Eww! No. And not Albus either."

"Ok, then." Harry tried to think harder, that cut out alot of options. "Is it Uncle Ron?"

"No!"

"Uncle Bill?"

"Nope!"

"Any of your other Uncles?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Your cousins?"

"No!"

She was cutting down a lot of options. Practically all of them. And it was starting to worry Harry. His little girl had a crush on someone? She was only six! When did this happen? Who could she possible know?

He ran through a few more names, old friends, their kids, neighbors—all ended in Lily shaking her head or telling him a variation of "No."

Then he paused as the music took a break and a very familiar voice came over the speakers. "Hope you're enjoying the music I put together for you, Lils! I'll show you new dance steps when I come over for dinner!"

"_Teddy?_" Harry squawked in surprise and looked down at Lily in shock. His little girl's attention was suddenly on their shoes, but he could see an even deeper blush on her cheeks.

_Oh boy_, he thought as the music started up again. How fast was Lily going to grow up? If she was already liking Teddy Lupin, Harry wasn't sure he could handle it.

Lily looked up again as they came to a stop. Harry smiled at her, trying to think of a way to keep her this way forever—or at least keep her from boys, Teddy or otherwise—then he scooped her up to sit on his hip.

"How about I show you how the king dances?" he asked.

Her bright smile was back and so were her giggles as he twirled around with her, making her hair fly behind her. There wasn't any question, Harry knew if she ever asked him to dance with her again, there would be nothing that could stop him.

_Maybe I should thank Hermione_...


	2. Chapter 2

_She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed_

_She wants to know if I approve of the dress_

_She says, "Dad, the prom is just one week away_

_And I need to practice my dancing_

_Oh, please, Daddy, please?"_

_So I will dance with Cinderella_

_While she is here in my arms_

_'Cause I know something the prince never knew_

_Oh, I will dance with Cinderella_

_I don't want to miss even one song_

_'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight_

_And she'll be gone_

_She will be gone..._

"No, Mum—they've changed the challenges! They've reworked the whole system or something."

Ron Weasley looked up in confusion. He'd just gotten back from dropping his youngest off at her cousin's house, the last thing he'd expected was to hear his eldest in the kitchen. During the school year.

"I still think it's a reckless idea," was Hermione's response.

"At least we get the Yule Ball out of it."

He quickly draped his coat and scarf over the peg near the door and strode down the hall to the kitchen. The brightly lit room was even brighter for some reason as he found his wife crouched on the floor, peering closely at the hem of an amazingly elegant gown. And in that gown was a tall young girl with dark copper curls, whose face brightened as she turned to look at him.

"Hiya Dad!" Cressida cried out, looking more excited than he'd ever seen her.

"Hiya," Ron said, returning the smile with confusion. "What are you doing home? It's not winter holiday yet, right?"

"No," Cressida laughed as she gave him a hug. "If it were, the boys'd be home."

"Cressida! What did I tell you about moving?" Hermione asked.

"Whoops," Cressida breathed and returned to standing on the stool with perfect posture.

Hermione sighed. "I don't see why you couldn't go to your aunt for this," she said, going back to fixing the hem. "She's better at it than I am."

"Yeah, but she's got little kids," Cressida said. "And you're not awful at it, Mum."

"And, why are—what's going on?" Ron asked. The day had been a long one, to say the least, and he really wasn't up to making sense of what was going on.

"The Yule Ball's coming!" Cressida said, visibly fighting the urge to bounce with excitement. "And Gavin Montgrove asked me to be his date!"

"_Date?_" Ron repeated, not liking the word or that it was said.

Cressida rolled her eyes. "Daddy, I'm fifteen," she said. "Boys ask girls on dates."

Ron glanced down at Hermione, who briefly met his gaze before looking away with a smirk. Ron, however, glowered. "So who's this Montgrave person?"

"Mont_grove_," Cressida corrected. "He's a sixth year—."

"What?"

"—from Ravenclaw," she continued louder. "His dad works publicity for the Chudley Cannons and his mum's a ministry council member. He's really sweet—just a really great guy!"

Ron looked down at his wife again. Hermione wasn't even trying to hide the smile on her face anymore. Clearly she approved of this more than he did.

"Daddy, it'll be ok," Cressida assured him, placing a hand on his arm. "You'd really like him."

He held back a snort of disbelief as Hermione got to her feet.

"Alright," Hermione said, dusting off her hands on her jeans. "How's the length now?"

Cressida smiled at her mother and hopped down from the stool, then ran for a more open area to twirl around in the shimmery blue fabric. Her expression was easy to read— the girl was ecstatic.

"Well?" she asked, spreading the skirt wide. "What do you think, Dad?"

Ron stared, not sure what his eyes were seeing. A beautiful young woman was standing before him, beaming as she asked him how she looked. This couldn't be his little girl. The Cressida he knew was still too into her textbooks and cooking to go to Yule Balls or be interested in boys. Didn't she still wear pigtails and ask for bedtime stories? _What happened?_

"Daddy?" Cressida smiled lovingly at the expression on his face.

Half of him wanted to tell her she couldn't wear it. That she had to wear an old jumper and skirt instead, but his vision was starting to fog as he heard himself say, "You look beautiful, Cress."

The smile on her face grew so bright, it could have lit up the entire country. Then a sly twinkle came to her eye. "McGonnagal said that she taught you how to dance..."

"She did, did she?" Ron laughed, turning to discreetly wipe his eyes. "That old bird hasn't retired yet?"

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, picking up the pieces of her small sewing kit.

"Not yet," Cressida laughed, then stepped around in front of him. "Um... she said I need to practice my dancing..."

Ron looked over at the large blue eyes that waited for him to respond.

"Please?" she asked, looking a little embarrassed. "Daddy, please?"

Slowly Ron smiled back at her and nodded.

Hermione pretended to be busy with some work at the kitchen table, but she had a clear view of the pair as their daughter refreshed Ron on what to do.

Cressida was as beautiful as if she were part Veela and happier than anyone else could have been. Ron did his best to remember the steps he'd been taught more than half a lifetime ago, which made them both laugh as they went, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing her. And something inside began to hurt.

_**A/N:**__ There's a movie plug in there! Can you find it? *giggles* So, in my AU, Ron and Hermione have four kids—Cressida, Reagan, Hugo, and Wayra. I dunno, I have this love of large families..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand_

_Just glowing and telling us all they had planned_

_She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away_

_But I need to practice my dancing_

_Oh, please, Daddy, please?"_

_So I will dance with Cinderella_

_While she is here in my arms_

_'Cause I know something the prince never knew_

_Oh, I will dance with Cinderella_

_I don't want to miss even one song_

_'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight_

_And she'll be gone_

"George? Could you take a break for a second?"

"Ok," George Weasley responded, elbow deep in the basement laboratory they'd set up at their large house. "Second's up!"

"_Funny_," his wife said and he could picture her rolling her eyes, then shifting her weight onto one leg like she always did. "Take a few more seconds and get up here, please."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't your only daughter is going to leave without you seeing her," Melissa Weasley responded.

"_What?_" With that George let his tools drop and he ran for the stairs, not even bothering to glance back as a few unstable elements combusted.

"What's this about Kimmy visiting?" George asked, not caring one stitch that he was singed and smoking.

His wife, though, did. Quick as a flash she had him cleaned off better than any shower in the world—wizard or muggle. Then she smiled coyly at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"She said she wanted to talk to us," Melissa said vaguely.

George frowned. Any time one of his children took on adult airs it counted as disturbing and was usually not about something pleasant. Instantly his mind was running through any and all possibilities that could have befallen his baby girl. She could just need help financially. But she was the owner of a thriving fashion business. Maybe she was looking to buy a new broom. No, she owned three nimbuses.

Maybe she was going to buy one for one of her brothers—Rex's birthday was coming up next Thursday. Knowing his daughter, though, she already had the perfect gift. Could she know something about the boys? Had she visited them recently at school and learned something bad? After all, with an uncle like Ron, there was no shortage of lineage that could place either of his sons in poorly timed situations. Then again, his own genetics could help them back out of anything.

It had to be something involving her. Maybe she was being harassed. Or her shop had been sabotaged. Or someone was holding something against her.

He was just mulling over the idea that the death eaters had returned and had ridden Norwegian ridgebacks in a flying attack on his daughter's shop, when Melissa cupped his face. She raised an eyebrow at him and was clearly fighting back laughter.

"Has anyone ever told you that your mind's a dangerous place when you think?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, then he laughed at his on confusion before joining her at the counter stools. "What are you talking about?"

"I've seen that look in your eye before," she said, waggling her finger at him. "When you're panicking. What is it this time? You think she'll say she's moving to Guam to work as a servant for the reincarnation of Lucius Malfoy?"

"No!" He'd never thought of that, but now that she'd said it...

"Uh-huh, sure."

"As if you're not worried," he grumbled, though he never could stay angry with her long.

Melissa smiled. "No, but I'm more sane."

George opened his mouth to argue, but before any words could form he heard a shout from the front door.

"HELLO? Anybody home?"

"I win," Melissa said quietly, grinning at her husband. Then she leaned around him. "Back here, Kimmy!"

George made a face at his wife, who made a face back at him until both burst out laughing as their twenty-two year old daughter came bounding into the room. She gave her parents a strange look at first, but then a loving smile came to her face.

"Should I come back later?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Both of her parents laughed and shook their heads.

"We hardly see you as it is," George complained.

Melissa slid off her stool and went to the cupboard. "Want something to drink, Kimmy?"

"Uhh... No," Kimmy said, bitting her bottom lip lightly. "Or at least not _yet_."

George and Melissa exchanged glances.

"Ok," Melissa said slowly. "So, what did you want to talk to us about?"

Kimmy was lightly chewing on her lower lip as she sorted her thoughts, a habit she'd had since she was five. George smiled, briefly picturing his little girl in a green jumper and her curls wildly surrounding her head like a halo instead of her off-white halter dress looking like the princess he believed she was. She gave him a knowing and teasing smile.

Then, pressing her lips together briefly again, she lifted her left hand in front of the broad grin that spread across her face.

George blinked at her, not fully sure what he was supposed to be getting from this gesture. But Melissa's shriek, followed by the two women in his life hugging each other while they laughed and cried, threw him off even more. The light caught it, though, shooting a quick beam of the shine into his eyes.

Slowly his brain began building up speed. That was a ring on her hand.

On her left hand. That was significant, right? _Wasn't that the hand Melissa wore her only ring on..._

George choked on the air.

"Dad?" Kimmy was looking at him with an expression torn between amusement and concern.

"What—who—?" he sputtered.

Kimmy looked to her mother, who raised her hands in defeat and rolled her eyes as she walked back toward the stove. Kimmy smirked at her, then turned her attention back to her father, who was still staring at her in a confused horror.

"Denis Jordan, Dad," she said slowly, watching to see if anything was sinking in. "We've been dating for about two years now? He's asked me to marry him."

"Jordan," George repeated, staring down into his daughters hazel eyes. An intense hatred of his friend's off-spring was welling up in his chest. "You told him to bugger off, right?"

"_No_, Daddy," Kimmy groaned in exasperation. "I said yes."

"What?" Something was wrong with his hearing, George could have sworn his baby girl had just said she was getting married. What a joke, she was still seven, right? Playing fashionista with her dolls.

"Mum?" Kimmy moaned, turning to Melissa for support.

"Oh no," Melissa said, fighting down a grin. "I warned you when you were fifteen, this task you have on your own. Just like I warned him that he'd have this day when he laughed about your grandfather's reaction."

Laughing, Kimmy leveled her gaze on her father again.

George couldn't get over it. His daughter was practically glowing as she launched into a description of what she and Denis had already decided on. Destination on the Easter Islands, autumn to avoid muggles, around two hundred people, coral and orange being the theme colors. From what George could tell, they were practically ready to go.

Melissa listened with rapt attention and glassy eyes, her hands clasped together in front of her smile as she leaned forward on the counter. Even George found himself enjoying her explanations after a while (and a few spiked cups of tea from his wife). The only thing that worried him was the date.

"Autumn Solstice?" he asked in surprise. "Kimmy, that's kinda soon, isn't it?"

"Six months away," she said with an anxious sigh, but he was pretty sure her grin had broadened. "And there's so much to do, I have to get a gown—."

"What? Oh, I don't _think_ so!" Melissa cut in, her hands on her hips.

"Mum, I haven't got enough time to make my own gown," Kimmy said, rolling her eyes.

"So I'll make it!" Melissa said, smiling proudly at her daughter's surprised face. "Who do you think you got your talents from? Your _aunts'_ gowns didn't come from shops, you know."

"Fine," Kimmy sighed. "But I also have to decide on a cake—."

"And you really think your aunt is going to let you actually go and pay for one?" Melissa asked, raising an eyebrow.

George grinned along with her. If he knew his brother's wife at all, the cake would probably be as tall as last year's Christmas tree and just as wide. And be considered part of their wedding gift.

Kimmy groaned around her smile. "Oh alright fine," she said, then tried to count off again. "The centerpieces—."

"I actually think your Auntie Fleur would be offended if you don't let her at least help with that one," Melissa pointed out.

"_Seriously_, Mum!" Kimmy said, throwing her hands into the air. "You're leaving me nothing left to plan!"

"Isn't that usually a good thing?" George asked.

"Dad!"

"Oh I'm sure I haven't taken out everything," Melissa said with a coy smile.

Kimmy laughed. "You're right, I need to practice my dancing," she said. "And that's something noone else can do for me!"

"No," Melissa agreed, as she turned toward the sink. "But you have to find someone to do that with you."

"I know,'' Kimmy said, smirking, then turned to her father with a large smile. "Would you please, Daddy?"

George didn't want to. There were very few times that he willingly danced—and those times usually involved alcohol. But it was also a proven fact that he rarely could say 'no' to the young woman standing in front of him.

Not that Melissa helped. "Oh go on," she urged, waving him away with her spoon. "There's at least twenty minutes till dinner."

Slowly he found himself giving her a forced nod and being pulled off the kitchen stool. Within seconds they found themselves in the formal diningroom, where everything was set for a big dinner at a moment's notice—which, in his family, was typically a good thing.

With a flick of her wand, Kimmy summoned classical Celtic music to fill the room. George chuckled and shook his head, then used his own magic to get his wife's beloved diningroom set out of the way. Which somehow ended up being on the ceiling. Then he took his daughter's hand.

Kimmy laughed as George attempted to waltz her around the room, making him smile down at her. He was never gladder that she was the one child in his family who'd stayed shorter than him, even if it was only by a few inches. She'd barely grown two inches since she was sixteen, getting her forehead to his cheekbone and a smidge taller than her mother. The boys had long since passed the three of them.

"What's so funny?" he asked as her laughs got louder.

"You," she gasped, still laughing as they tried to perform dance moves. "You're as bad as _I_ am!"

Her giggles rang through the air and soon George found himself laughing along, which only caused a misstep that sent them both sprawling to the floor in a heap of laughter. "Well," he said, pushing up on his elbow. "At least I'm in good company, then."

Kimmy looked up at her father with a grin and hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek into the pocket over his heart. "I think I'm in better company."

George let out a chuckle and shifted his weight so he could hold her.

"Look at this!" Melissa's voice exclaimed, making them both look up to see the fashionable woman staring at her diningroom set which was now happily on the ceiling. "I send you off to dance and you're picnicking on the ceiling!"

Both father and daughter burst out laughing, laying back on the floor to stare at the upside-down sight, while Melissa watched them with hands on her hips. But slowly she smiled and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

"It looks like you need alot more practice," she said over her shoulder to the giggles.

"Yes," George said, grinning broadly at his little girl. "Yes, it does."

_**A/N:**__ Tehehe, George's turn. Still my AU, wherein Melissa is actually Angelina's cousin and they have four kids (like Ron's family, though originally they'd only had two as well, somehow that changed...)_


End file.
